


The Alphabet with Quiglet

by FredGeorge123



Category: A Series of Unfortunate Events - Lemony Snicket
Genre: F/M, Gen, I Will Go Down With This Ship, Romantic Fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-07
Updated: 2019-04-08
Packaged: 2020-01-06 04:10:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18380681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FredGeorge123/pseuds/FredGeorge123
Summary: What the title says.





	1. A is for Air

Violet didn’t often contemplate on useless things. She preferred to think of useful things and how they worked and why they worked and how other things could affect them. Inventing was mostly about making things that could help people by making their life easier. From the zip of a coat to the fan on the ceiling to the vacuum machine which they never did buy. But during the island Violet thought more and more about useless things. After the first fire Violet couldn’t bear to have her head in the clouds. But now she could. During the island she did. And after reaching land she did.

She thought about air. She thought about how the air must have been during the first fire, mingled with their furniture and belongings and things like medicine and food and… her parents too… She thought about the air at Mr Poe’s. Violet smiled, a smile mixed with nostalgia and bitterness and amusement. Sunny could remember Mr Poe but she hated him immensely. She hated him absolutely. She hated him very much. Violet thought about the air at Count Olaf’s. She scoffed. Oh, how long ago was it… It was years yet it felt more like centuries and yesterday for she remembered it vividly. There were bigger thing than Count Olaf, things that still existed and could harm them. Yet Count Olaf was still the basis. No matter nothing and everything and anything, logic or knowledge or common sense, Count Olaf was and still is the basis of everything. Even if she was the most constant visitor of his grave, wondering about nothing and everything and anything.

Violet thought about the air at Uncle Monty’s. Warm. Violet didn’t have it in her to say anything else. She thought about the air at Aunt Josephine’s. Salty and cold. The opposite of Monty’s but still… in a strange way… safe… no… serene. She thought about the air at the Factory. It was a lumber mill. Nothing more was needed to say.

Violet thought about the air at Preparatory Prep. The air was fine there. Perfectly fine. Nothing more than fine. It was Isadora and Duncan who made their stay unforgettable. And then it was the two triplets who paid the price. She thought about the air at Esme Squalor’s. The air was fine. Perfectly fine. Nothing more than fine. It was Esme who made their stay unforgettable. And again it was the two triplets who paid the price. She thought about the air at the village. It smelled like birds for a crap pile of a village. At least the two triplets were able to get away this time. Violet didn’t remember the air of the hospital. Probably smelt like medicine and antiseptic. Whatever. She was unconscious. Violet didn’t remember the air at Madam Lulu’s. It was a mix of things probably but she couldn’t care less about the hospital or the carnival. Even if they were the second and third fire which the Baudelaires had a part in.

 Violet did remember the air at Mount Fraught. She didn’t know what to think about it. It smelt like… snow? Snow didn’t have a smell… But even if it did smell of anything then it was clouded by thoughts of peach kisses on a ledge of a frozen waterfall and what it could have been and what would have happened if she had reached his hand in time. Violet didn’t know how to back up her feelings with logic. But the pleasant talks on the ledge and stories which Violet believed still masked a confused, alone and lost child, not to mention the resourcefulness, all managed to charm Violet.

What would they be today if Quigley was here? Violet wondered.

Violet didn’t remember the air at the submarine. She remembered the air at Hotel Denouement. It was a place Violet would have liked but not anymore. Violet didn’t remember the air at sea with Count Olaf. At least it was one thing she didn’t remember about the man. Violet remembered the air at the island. Of course she did. The first time she had gotten peace in years. The first time she was able to really be passive. The first time she was able to contemplate everything About Count Olaf, her parents, VFD, Quigley and nothing and everything and anything. Useful and useless.


	2. B is for Blur

It was a blur after Violet hit the crack caused by Carmelita’s springpole with a knife. Quigley didn’t even register what had happened. The waters of the Stricken Stream came rushing down the slope, and instead of being on a frozen pool at the bottom of a strange curve of ice, they were all at the bottom of a rushing waterfall, with gallons and gallons of water pouring down on them. It was so turbulent just like the fire. Everywhere blocked, helplessness, will everyone get out alive? Violet, Klaus, Duncan, Isadora, Mum left, Where is she going?, Is she going to be okay-?

It was only as Quigley realized there was ice cold water everywhere. He gasped, his mind still somewhere else, and felt his breath go short. He let go of someone’s waist he was holding in shock but realised that was a bad idea as soon as he was separated  away from a- the wooden toboggan which bobbed to the surface again.

He snapped back to reality but it was too late. The Baudelaire siblings were far, considering the water flow of The Stricken Stream.

"Quigley!" a girl’s voice screamed. Quigley felt tears come to his eyes. Even he left the siblings.

"Violet!" Quigley suddenly felt himself bump into a piece of wood which he managed to hold onto. His mind was too fuzzy to comprehend anything and all he could convey was that toboggan began to float down one of the tributaries and the siblings were looking at him. He couldn’t comprehend the rush of the water that was dragging the wood, and Quigley, down the opposite tributary of the Stricken Stream.

"Quigley!" Violet screamed again.

"Violet!" Quigley shouted, over the roar of the water. Quigley didn’t know if they could see him so he took out his most treasured possession. He waved his violet coloured commonplace book in the air so they could see it if they couldn’t see him. "Wait for me! Wait for me at Briny Beach!"

But Quigley wasn’t sure if they heard him. The Stricken Stream, in its sudden thaw from the arrival of False Spring, whisked the piece of wood and the toboggan away from one another, down the two separate tributaries. Quigley had one last glimpse of Violet’s ribbon before Quigley rushed around one twist in the stream, and the Baudelaires rushed around another, and she was gone from his sight.

Quigley clung on to the piece of wood. It was his fault. He didn’t keep his mind in the right place and now he didn’t know what was going to happen next and the siblings would feel like they lost another person.

Quigley thought about Violet. Her beautiful dark brown eyes and her strength and cleverness. Ever since Jacques told him about the Baudelaires, Quigley admired the many inventions and plans of Violet Baudelaire from her plan to use her left hand to escape the marriage Count Olaf was forcing her to finding evidence that Count Olaf killed Dr Montgomery to using peppermints to buy the siblings time to being able to end Klaus’ hypnotism. Her invention which helped them climb the waterfall. Sitting on a ledge of the frozen waterfall…

Quigley almost blushed.

It was only then he realized that the piece of wood was a banister. He sighed. Big deal.


End file.
